


The Red Box

by Cleo2010



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Anal Sex, Crossdressing, Frottage, Kink Meme, M/M, knickers
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-02-08
Updated: 2012-04-12
Packaged: 2017-10-30 19:54:27
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 12,995
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/335470
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Cleo2010/pseuds/Cleo2010
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Written for a prompt on the kink meme ages ago which asked for...</p><p> </p><p>  <em>John wears women's underwear sometimes. Sherlock is surprised and turned on.</em></p><p> </p><p>So that's what we have.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

“Binocular, binoculars. I know they’re in here somewhere.” Sherlock rifled through the bottom of John’s wardrobe, carelessly pulling out various sized boxes on to the floor in search of the leather case that he’d seen a few months ago. He’d seen them while he’d lain in bed sated and watched John dress for work one morning; he knew they were in there. A trainer that had long ago lost its partner flew over Sherlock’s shoulder followed quickly by some cheap ties that he planned on throwing out later. “Ugh, hideous. I’ll be doing you and humanity a favour.” A few wire coat hangers met a similar fate being tossed over one shoulder then the other.

The bottom of the wardrobe was soon empty so Sherlock set swiftly to the dusty boxes. One lid, photos. “Useless.” Another lid, passport and other important documents. “Come on, come on.” Next lid, dress shoes. “Damn it to hell.” Final lid, underwear. Sherlock’s flurry of activity halted.

Women’s underwear.

Sherlock wasn’t thinking about binoculars anymore. His only thoughts surrounded why the man he was sharing a bed with had a dark red gift box containing at least twenty pairs of women’s underwear. The box wasn’t dusty either. This had been opened, kept clean, the underwear smelt fresh and clean. Hand-washed.

With teeth gritted he quietly examined the evidence. He lifted one pair between pinched fingers. Dark blue lace, French cut so they sat across the hips, they would be see-through front and back. Titillating, not practical. Another pair, pale yellow cotton briefs, simple with just a small bow marking the front. A satin pair of briefs covered in small butterflies has a keyhole detail in the back that would highlight a woman’s bottom cleavage that is typically hidden, alluring to some. Alluring to John obviously. He scrunched them up and threw them to the floor, his anger prickling. Sherlock was taking less care now as he looked at each one, different shapes, different styles, different materials... different women. 

He’d had enough. He grabbed a fist full of them. The binoculars were completely forgotten along with the reason he wanted them. His rage carries him down the stairs two at a time and into the living room where John was sitting with the morning newspaper, startled by the sudden heavy footsteps. 

“Souvenirs, John?” Sherlock seethed and held up his clenched fist, full of cotton, silk and gauzy see-through mesh. 

John visibly paled his eyes wide on the underwear held aloft. His mouth opened but nothing came out.

“Well?” Sherlock challenged his lover. “Should I give you a pair of mine now or is it only the women you keep?” Being furious was much easier than being hurt, that could wait until later when he’d lick his wounds in private. Right now he was sitting on a crest of rage and quite happy to let it crash down upon John until he felt satisfied and right again. He felt a fool for letting John get so deep under his skin, for making him care.

“Shit, Sherlock it’s not what you think, really it isn’t.” He stood but Sherlock took a step back. John rubbed a hand across his face, looking pleadingly at the still scowling detective. 

“You often look through all your conquests, John? Think about them? Do they excite you?” 

“No, Sherlock, you’ve-”

“Enlighten me John because as far as I’m concerned I’m currently standing holding the under garments of at least five women you’ve gotten off with!”

“Shit, they’re... not...” He paced anxiously; adjusting his long sleeved t-shirt he was wearing like it was too tight.

“You might want to finish that sentence before you find these and the rest of them alight on your bed.” Sherlock said far too calmly. He meant every word. John knew that too.

“I’ll explain but I didn’t expect to tell you like this. Will you sit down and relax for a second, please?”

“No.”

“Fine.” John took a breath and looked Sherlock square in the eye. “They’re mine.” John couldn’t maintain the eye contact beyond a few seconds and instead looked out the window and puffed out his cheeks in defeat. His bravado failed him. Sherlock hadn’t flinched, studying the man in front of him. It was a possibility in his angry haste he hadn’t considered but John had been open with him about other sexual preferences. Of course he understood that John might not have wanted to share this one.

“Explain.”

“I bought them.” He avoids Sherlock's eyes, staring out the window. “No woman has worn them or seen them. They’re... for me.”

Sherlock anger dissipated in a flash to be replaced by something completely different and much more pleasant. Surprisingly so. “You find them... arousing.” Sherlock was wondering if he did too.

“God Sherlock, you really want me to say it? Fine, then yes. I was going-”

“Shush.” He cuts John off sharply. “Prove it.”

John turned back and looking quizzical but a lot less defeated. “They’re all the same size for starters.”

“Not enough. Go to your room, undress and put on your favourite pair. Don’t get in bed. Wait for me.”

“You-you want me to wear them. For you?” He stuttered out.

“Yes.” Sherlock stared expressionless at the quite terrified John. “It’s the only way to prove that these belong to you.” It would also explain a few things to Sherlock about his burgeoning erection that was growing steadily. He wanted John out of the room before it showed, to keep him on the back foot. 

“Are you... I haven’t ever... um...” 

“John. Upstairs. Now.” 

“Yeah, ok, just give me a few minutes ok. I’m not really... yeah, ok I’m going.”

John walked past, Sherlock’s eyes on him as he leaves, and walked calmly up the stairs but they both know that he's far from calm. Sherlock heard the door to his bedroom click shut and began to pace, releasing his nervous anticipation. He was still holding the underwear, John’s underwear. It felt different now, not a source of fury but of excitement. He hadn’t foreseen this outcome but then he never claimed to be infallible. 

When it came to sexual predilections they were rarely obvious. Each person hides their preferences under layers of subterfuge and personality. Of course there were indicators, Sherlock knew this, he was better than most at deducing those who love to have their toes sucked and those who want to feel a good hurt at someone’s hand. But John... he was different.

Sherlock was picturing him changing, hesitant but knowing exactly which pair he would wear, which were his favourite. Of course he had a favourite, that’s why he bought so many pairs, because he got a new favourite. Something would catch his eye and he would need to have them. He stopped his pacing for a moment and pressed his free hand against his erection. “Yes, very nice.” 

Another piece of the puzzle slipped into place. The first time John had undressed for him Sherlock had been surprised to find he was clean shaven. This was why. He liked to feel them. They would fit better with him shaved. Sherlock’s heart was pounding now.

He could barely stand the wait. Which pair would he choose? The dark blue lace ones? How on earth would he be able to wear them without falling out? Perhaps he favoured the simplicity of cotton. He leant against the wall and touched himself again, pressing the wad of underwear to his covered groin and canting his hips back and forth. “Hmmph, ohhh.” It was no good, he couldn’t wait any longer or he’d end up wasting a unique opportunity with a frenzied masturbation episode against the living room wall. He forced himself to walk slowly up the stairs to keep his excitement concealed and his hands off himself. He wanted to control this and set the pace. 

When he found himself outside of John’s door he inhaled deeply and let it out as slowly as he could. He put one surprisingly composed hand on the door handle and entered John’s bedroom. 

John was stood in front of the wardrobe; the mess Sherlock had made on the floor had been tidied away. He cared for his things and tidying up would have been a distraction while he waited. Sherlock closed the door behind him and silently took in the sight of John fruitlessly trying to conceal himself. 

Nude but for a pair of black silk French knickers. Lace trim around each leg that was tighter around his thighs than they would have been on a woman. They were detailed with a small slit up each side which made them looser and revealed the light birth mark on his right leg. The faint trail of blond hair from his belly button met a bow at the centre but Sherlock knew that there was no hair further than that. Just silk on smooth skin. 

Sherlock’s heart was racing, his trousers bulging but John wouldn’t or couldn’t look even vaguely in his direction. Arms shielding himself, blushing and mortified. Gaining Sherlock’s trust again was obviously worth the discomfort. 

Sherlock walked towards John who still wouldn’t look at him. With one long finger he stroked John’s jaw and guided his gaze to where he wanted it to be. John was gasping for breath, mouth dry, unfortunately with panic and not arousal though Sherlock planned on changing that. Sherlock watched as John finally began to register the expression on his face. He knew his eyes were dark and wanting but John wouldn’t believe that Sherlock desired this too. Granted this was recent news for Sherlock as well.

“Come.” Sherlock commanded softly and walked backwards to sit on the edge of the bed, bringing John to stand between his open legs. He moved John’s hands to his sides, balled up and tense but hopefully not for too long. John’s silk underwear was just below eye level, his soft penis and testicles carefully cradled inside something that wasn’t designed to hold him. If he moved incorrectly he’d slip out down one of the leg holes. He knows how to wear them. Well practiced. This aroused Sherlock even more. 

“Sherlock I-”

“Shush, don’t speak yet.”

“But-”

Sherlock silenced him with a look and John acquiesced begrudgingly. Sherlock was finished observing and ready to touch, first running his hands up John’s lightly hairy thighs, just brushing the lace trim at each leg with his fingers. The room was so silent that their heavier than usual breathing sounded awfully loud but it couldn’t be helped. Sherlock kept his hands sweeping up and down, tracing a new line each time, sometimes brushing the lace that cupped John’s bottom or slipping higher under the slits at the sides. Sherlock could feel John’s muscles flexing and quivering under his gentle palms and delighted at the movement he was causing against the front of knickers as John responded to Sherlock’s caresses.

Sherlock was beginning to regret not taking off a single item of clothing but he did enjoy having John so exposed before him, both his body and his secret. He would never have had expected he’d experience such a visceral reaction to the thought of John wearing such a feminine item, let alone seeing him in the black silk. Something about someone as unassumingly masculine as John, a rugby playing army man, enjoying such an activity was having a dramatic effect on Sherlock. 

He ran his hands up John’s thighs again, this time sliding inside the front of the legs just slightly and brushing his thumbs against either side John’s balls that were resting in the gusset. “Oh god, Sherlock, nnggh.” He sighed on a broken breath. Sherlock smiled and repeated the action once more, slower, starting from the inside of John’s knees, teasing his thumbs up the sensitive insides of his thighs, achingly slow, before sneaking inside and brushing again against his hairless sack. “Oh fuuu, god.” He bit both of his lips into a thin line. Sherlock was revelling in each reaction.

John was becoming hard, his inhibitions and anxiety melting away quicker than before. His arms now hanging loose and relaxed at his sides. Sherlock took one more path up the backs of John’s thighs before grabbing two silk covered globes of his arse. “Tell me, John, why these? Why are these your favourite?” He squeezed and kneaded the silk against John, watching the front tug across his hardening penis, displaying the long shape of him, foreign in such a garment. “Be detailed.”

“I, um.” He cleared his dry throat from breathing through his mouth so much and tried to move saliva round his mouth and lips, licking them quickly. “I saw them in a shop, in the window and I uh, really liked how they looked, they had a nice cut.”

“Did they make you hard when you saw them John?”

“It was a busy street but... yeah, I was interested.” He looked away embarrassed so Sherlock cupped the material around John’s balls. “Oh, mmm.”

“Keep going.”

“Are you enjoying this?”

Sherlock leant back and roughly grabbed John’s hand, forcing it against his erection. He gave John a withering look that told him to stop ferreting and enjoy himself.

“Ok, yeah, I’m convinced.” John grasped tight and released three times before Sherlock remembered what they were doing. 

“Keep telling me, what did you like about them?” Sherlock’s voice was ragged; he could have taken everything just then but he’d dug some self control from somewhere deep inside. "Wait." He quickly stood, undid his trousers and let them fall to the floor. He rid himself quickly of his tight underwear and kicked them away. Finally his burning hot member was free in the cool air. 

“God Sherlock, wow.” John gave Sherlock a decidedly lustful gaze before he was dragged to stand between Sherlock’s now bare legs. He was still wearing his shirt, there didn’t feel like there was time to waste. Sherlock resumed his exploration, this time rubbing and stroking the material against John’s shaven area around his cock. “Ah, that feels nice."

"Go on, what do you like about this pair?" Sherlock needed to hear John's voice as he touched him.

"I, uh, liked the shape of them, the lace edge and I’ve never felt silk before, not on me anyway. They were expensive but after that last case, I could afford them.”

“How much?” Sherlock knew it was vulgar to ask but he wanted to know what John considered a treat.

“Wha’?” John replied, distracted by Sherlock running his finger along the skin where the top of his underwear sat. John shivered and sucked his stomach in involuntarily. Sherlock loved how responsive he could be, putty in his hands. “Thirty quid.”

“John, I blow my nose on more expensive material.” Sherlock leant forward and sucked a hard kiss against John’s stomach, cupping his bottom at the same time but leaving his cock untouched.

“God, well, I guess you’ll have to help me next time. Oh, good, keep doing that.” He said breathlessly, leaning into Sherlock now kissing and licking his way towards the ruffled waistband, his tongue licking at the bow, the feminine touch. He dropped to his knees in front of John with a grunt of satisfaction ready to give more. 

“I’d like that.” Sherlock said against John’s skin. “When did you know you enjoyed this, John?” 

“You really want to – ow!” Sherlock bit his stomach none too playfully. “Ok, ok, I was seventeen.” John rested his hands in Sherlock’s hair, raking his fingers through as Sherlock kissed and laved at the skin of his stomach, his hands firmly on his arse, even pushing the material so it rubbed between his cheeks a little. “I had just turned seventeen; Harry had just gone back to uni after the Christmas break and she’d had some friends over for New Years Eve. Mum had done my washing for me and one of the girl’s bright pink g-strings was in with my stuff. It was tiny but it had really soft satin at the front.”

Sherlock, while still enjoying John’s stomach, let a finger run the length of John’s erection that was distending the front of the material. John groaned and lost his thread on the story. Sherlock looked up at him devilishly through his eyelashes and did it again, watching John’s reaction and his grit his teeth and growled, bucking towards Sherlock’s feather light touching as he swirled patterns with his finger along the length of him. “Sherlock, god, please.” 

“Keep talking, what did you do with the g-string?” Sherlock cupped and massaged him, one hand one his cock, another rolling his balls so they slipped out slightly. Sherlock swallowed hard, the sight making him want to speed this up; his need be touched becoming urgent.

John was losing patience too. “I wrapped it around my hand and wanked with it,” he said quickly and desperately, “Sherlock, god, you’re killing me, please fuck me or do something.”

“You look wonderful John; I don’t want to take them off. Not even to fuck you.” Sherlock sank down on to his heels and mouthed John’s cock breathing hot breath through the silk. 

“Oh, god.” John’s fingers curled tight into Sherlock’s hair so he couldn’t move away from where he wanted him. “Yes, yes, yes.”

Sherlock licked the length of him through the fabric, feeling the heat of John’s hardness before taking the head of him, sucking him through the silk. Tasting him through the silk too. 

“God Sherlock, god, oh, fucking hell.” His grip was painful now but Sherlock cared not. “God I’ve thought about this so much, oh fuck, so good.”

Sherlock grunted low and hard at hearing that this had been a fantasy of Johns and the subsequent vibrations made John’s knees buckle. “God John, I need more.” Sherlock stood, took a second to see the wetness where his mouth had been and his testicle hanging out down one leg before grabbing him and forcing him roughly to the bed but only half on, he had to brace his feet on the floor.

“Sherlock, lay on me.” Sherlock already had that in mind and practically threw himself on top of John, crushing his cock against John’s silk covered one. “Yes.” John wrapped his arms around Sherlock, keeping them tight together. 

“Ohhhh, yes, I understand even more now.” He drawled as he thrust against John, becoming quicker and quicker, staining the black material with his precome. He wondered how different it would feel if he was shaven too. His kissed John’s mouth, biting and growling as they rutted against each other, John taking Sherlock’s dominance like he had no choice. 

“Fuck, Sherlock, feels so good, don’t stop.”

“I want you to come in them, make them wet.”

“Jesus fucking, yes.”

Sherlock had John pinned, legs hanging awkwardly but entwined with Sherlock’s longer and slimmer ones. John slipped his hands under the shirt Sherlock was still wearing and dug in his nails across his arched back to leave scratches as he clung on for dear life.

“I love it Sherlock, I fucking love wearing these.”

Sherlock couldn’t speak; instead just bit a bruise into the side of John’s neck, soothing it with his tongue before biting again.

“God Sherlock.” John hissed, the pain a very good one.

Sherlock rolled them over, grabbing John so that they didn’t part where it mattered and shoved his fingers between John’s parted cheeks so the silk rubbed against his hairless hole. “Oh holy fuck.” John could barely speak, shaking on top of him. “Nearly.”

Sherlock was frantic, eyes screwed shut as he ground mercilessly against the material, catching on the rougher lace, sliding against John’s cock, John in his silky, feminine knickers. “Oh, oh god.” He tipped his head back and continued to thrust through his release, his come dampening the silk, covering them both. “Yes, lovely, yes.”

John rested his forehead against Sherlock’s cotton covered chest as he silently jerked through his orgasm. Body tense, his knees drawn in slightly, unbreathing for the longest time, Sherlock didn’t know if he’d ever stop. “Yes, John, in the silk. Wonderful.” He whispered as he felt him pulse against him. He finally sagged on his elbows, gasping for breath. Sherlock lifted him slightly and saw come running out of one of the legs holes on to his softening cock below. “John, oh god.” Sherlock’s jaw dropped. How he had gone his whole life not knowing he wanted to see just that.

“Yeah. That was good.” 

Sherlock tipped John so he lay next to him on the bed, still with their legs hanging off. Sherlock gently ran his fingers through the trail of come that had run down his leg and into the damp inside. John winced a little at the sensitivity. "Shouldn’t have kept this from me.” Sherlock commented silently on the sheer amount that John had come; he definitely shouldn’t have kept this secret.

“Didn’t know what you’d think.” John said simply.

“Did you think I’d make fun of you?”

“Maybe, I didn’t know. I was still feeling you out.”

“What if it were me, would you have taken the piss out of me?” Sherlock massaged some of John’s slickness into the soft skin surrounding his cock, shaven this morning just an hour or two ago. John cheekily pressed Sherlock’s hand into him firmer.

“I would have called you a big girl’s blouse and snapped your knicker elastic for being such a weird pervert.” He said with a dopey smile on his face, still clouded from his orgasm. 

“Good job I’m not the one who likes wearing them then.” Sherlock smiled softly back.

“Yes, it is quite.” John giggled before turning more serious. “It’s just a bedroom thing and it’s not like I cross dress, no bras or dresses or anything, just... just the knickers. Anyway, wouldn’t dare wear them out, can’t get shot and taken to hospital wearing cotton briefs with cherries on. Don’t even know why I bought those.”

Sherlock looked over at John, his neck bite already purpling along with the red suck mark on his stomach. It looked so delightfully sinful above John’s ruined silk knickers, clinging to his flaccid cock. He wanted more of this, much, much more. 

“We need to clean up.” 

“Yeah, we should.” John stood up stiffly and went to remove his sticky underwear. Sherlock quickly stood up, his body protesting and pulled John’s hands away.

“Leave them on; we’ll wash them in the shower.” Sherlock knew he hand-washed them, couldn’t risk anyone seeing them.

“God Sherlock, will you ever let me take them off?” He smiled and staggered, still unsteady on his feet so he grabbed on to Sherlock’s arm for balance. Sherlock looked down at him, a beautiful sight, damp silk and glistening skin.

“Only when I fuck you and even then I want them at your ankles.”

“Oh fuck yes, it’s like you’re in my head Sherlock. Can we do that over the arm of the sofa?”

“Anything you want but I get to pick the next pair.”


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The underwear in this chapter were a genuine pair but aren't for sale anymore so I can't link to a picture but they were very lovely indeed.

Two days later John returned home from work to find an expensive looking cream box labelled _‘La Perla’_ sitting on the coffee table with a note. 

_8pm, Angelo’s. Wear these. Love, SH_

John had already become half hard at the sight of the luxurious box. “La Perla, oh my god, the man is insane.” John never claimed to be an expert on women’s lingerie but he knew that there was something special inside. He sat down and wiped his slightly sweaty palms on his trousers before tearing the two stickers that held the box lid down and peeked inside. Inside was neatly packed black tissue. He slowly began to unfold, taking his time. His heart was racing, his erection very much present. Soon, a creamy coloured item came into view, sat shining amongst the dark tissue. “Christ above.”

John lifted the pair of underwear carefully as if it was something precious. Of course, they were precious to him; Sherlock had bought them and spared no expense. They were so much more than material and stitching; this was Sherlock accepting this side of John. 

He examined the under garment carefully. The front panel was shaped to look like an oyster shell with two silky see-through strips of material holding it in place over his privates. The back panel was see-through too, so smooth and soft, it would feel amazing to wear. Sherlock had hinted that he’d liked John’s more revealing pairs.

He turned his attention to the beautiful, fine quality detail of the shell, the colour seeming more oyster than cream now he had context, almost virginal if they weren’t so revealing. The lines of the shell were made with flat piping, starting from the base of the shell and winding up and down in one flowing strip. The edge of the shell was ruched with soft netting. John ran his finger along the material wondering if Sherlock had done the same. 

He was a little worried that he wouldn’t be able to stay in them; they were designed very much with a woman in mind. Perhaps Sherlock didn’t understand that he couldn’t wear every pair? There was a certain art to staying inside if they weren’t tightly holding him or has a certain shaped gusset. He’d have to try them on but he definitely wouldn’t fit in them now, they would look rather ridiculous with his hard on sticking brazenly out of the top and the shell wrapped around his balls. He giggled to himself with utter happiness, still feeling and stroking the material, inside and out. 

He couldn’t quite believe how Sherlock had embraced his secret and even found he enjoyed it too. He looked at the handwritten note again; Sherlock had beautiful handwriting when he wasn’t in a rush. He wanted to wear them out though a quake in his stomach betrayed him. John had only tried wearing his secret underwear out once when he was eighteen. He’d decided to pick up some snacks from the corner shop as an experiment. Within two minutes he was sure everyone could tell what he was wearing just by looking at him. He ended up heading back home and stuffed them under his mattress in shame. It hadn’t been the rush he was hoping for, he’d felt like an idiot. From then on it had been completely private.

But now was different. He was older now and Sherlock wanted this too. He’d do this for him as much as himself. He’d long set aside the confusion and shame and figured if he wasn’t hurting anyone, what was the harm in occasionally getting off on women’s underwear. Of course, Sherlock was the first person he’d ever shared, well, planned on sharing, his secret with. Everyone he’d dated before seemed to have certain expectations of him and he didn’t completely trust anyone to understand or not set the gossip mill in motion. ‘Army man John likes to prance about in girly knickers, what a poof’. No one would understand, he’d be labelled and lose their respect.

Even though he was terrified and felt completely exposed when Sherlock had burst into the room with that handful of his secrets, he knew deep down that he could trust him once he understood what it meant. Ok, he’d felt humiliated when he’d been ordered upstairs and by the way Sherlock had stared at him as he walked past but things soon changed for the better. Very much for the better. So many fantasies of being able to share this side of himself and, most importantly, for the _other person_ to enjoy it as much as he did had come true. He’d never come so hard in his life without being fucked. 

His thoughts returned to the evening ahead. He was wishing that he had something less challenging to wear but these were incredible, like nothing he’d seen or imagined wearing. No one wore these for the practicality, they were something special. He checked his watch, he had an hour and a half to get ready and there was no sign of Sherlock. Firstly, a cold shower or he’d never get in them.

~~~*~~~

He arrived at Angelo’s ten minutes early. The anxiety of wearing the elaborate underwear outside had curbed his erection. Considering he’d been hard since he put them on it wasn’t unwelcome but the frisson of pleasure he’d felt in the safety of his own room was gone and he was a little worried he wouldn’t get it back. 

He’d taken a cab even though he could have walked but as he hadn’t experimented with how secure he was he took the safe option. They held him fairly firmly, they were quite deceptive, but he really didn’t want to spend the night half in and half out or having to adjust himself constantly. Chafing isn’t pleasant either. 

“John!” Beamed Angelo, giving him a pat on the shoulder. “Sherlock ain’t ‘ere yet but got you your favourite window seat, plenty of candles.” He winked. 

“Thanks.” John nodded, still a little nervous. He took his seat and ordered a glass of wine for the two of them. John gulped his first few sips and tried not to fidget. He appreciated how the material cradled him and never let him forget what he was wearing but that didn’t stop his fingers from nervously tapping his glass. He kept his mind amused by watching the other diners but it was tricky when the slightest movement reminded him of how the material stretched across his bottom and slid against his trousers.

“You’re early.” Said Sherlock as he swept into the seat beside him. John hadn’t even noticed the door opening. He'd been debating whether he should take them off in the men’s loo, surely going without would be less mortifying and he could finally relax. “Are you wearing them?” 

John nodded, the tone of Sherlock’s voice and the look on his face had rendered him speechless. This was worth it now. The frisson was back.

“Good, I haven’t been able to stop thinking about you in them, been rather distracting.” Sherlock was either unaware or didn’t care when he placed his hand up against John and started to grope. John pulled himself closer to the table; he didn’t want to ask Sherlock to stop. “They fit ok?”

John nodded and made a noise that sounded like “yes” from the back of his throat. 

“Good, good. I tested them so I knew they'd be alright, can’t have you uncomfortable all night.”

“Tested?” Sherlock was groping less roughly now, just tracing the shape and lines of the piping he could feel through John’s trousers.

“Had to make sure you could wear them, I’m sure they look better on you than me though. The colour would suit your skin tone too, I felt.”

“Sherlock, uh, stop now.” John held his wrist softly. He was well on his way to dragging Sherlock to the loo and demanding a decidedly unromantic blow job.

“Oh, of course. Hungry?” 

“Not for food.” John quirked a smile which Sherlock returned in kind. 

They skipped a starter, neither of them in the mood to linger over their meal for too long. Sherlock had picked a penne pasta meal which he could eat one handed, his other wandering behind him and beneath the waist band of John’s trousers, stroking the material and dipping his fingers under the edge to feel his skin. Of course people must know what they were doing but they hardly cared, too lost in their own world. John was only aware of his underwear and Sherlock. He felt incredible, like he was riding a slow wave of energy.

“Do you like them?”

Even though they’d been making idle small talk about Sherlock’s day at Bart’s John knew exactly what he was talking about. “Very much, they’re probably the nicest thing I’ve ever owned.”

“Good, good.” Sherlock looked around and slipped his hand to John’s fly. “I knew they were perfect for you the moment I saw them.”

“Sherlock.” John warned. 

“Just a little feel, please? I stayed away from home because I knew we’d never make it out if I saw you. God, having you sit there wearing them and I’m the only one who knows, you have no idea how arousing that is for me. You can feel me if you like, if you need proof. God John, I could take you over the table right now, let everyone see what you’re wearing.”

John cleared his throat and took another large swig of wine which made his head swim. Sherlock had moved close to him, still eating with one hand while the other slowly undid his zip. 

“Oh... um, so I’ve got Saturday off, they don’t need me on call after all.” John tried for casual but it was strained beyond belief. It wasn’t the first time he’d been felt up in a restaurant, but it was a thousand times more heightened knowing the reason why Sherlock’s fingers were slowly tugging his trousers open. Why he needed to feel John so badly.

His fly was completely down soon enough. “That’s good. Perhaps we could do something together?” Sherlock’s hand slipped inside and John’s whole body tensed as Sherlock cupped his semi-erect cock. He was getting hard very fast and Sherlock was hardly moving. He was feeling the curved detailing along the top. John’s skin was hyper sensitive there, extra skin exposed due to the cut.

“Don’t think that’s a good idea.” John knew Sherlock would pick up on the code. This had to stop, it was too public. 

“Maybe we could go shopping?” Sherlock said with a gleam in his eye as he stroked the smooth gusset beneath the detail of the shell where his balls were resting. John parted his legs, accepting the touch but not wanting it at the same time. John dug his nails in to the side of his thumb and tried to regain some control.

“Oh fuck.” He muttered as Sherlock placed his palm firmly over him, the heat of his hand feeling oh-so good but not enough movement for this to become rather embarrassing. He still needed to stop because he badly wanted to rock against his hand; his cock was already pushing the material outwards, ready to burst out of the top. “Sherlock, no more shopping, please.” He said a little desperately, hoping Sherlock wouldn’t ignore their impromptu code. 

“Fine, but I need to soon.” Sherlock removed his hand and John felt the cool air hit him. John went to do up his fly but Sherlock stopped him. John didn’t know why, but he obeyed. 

“Me too, badly.” 

Sherlock grinned. “I’m full, dessert?”

“Yeah, just a small one.” 

By the time dessert had arrived John had a hand on Sherlock’s thigh, tracing little circles and Sherlock was playing with the thin, gauzy material that rested on John’s hip. They ate with one hand in silence; eye contact and their touches said everything they needed. John rubbed his knee against the one pressed against him and Sherlock licked cream off the inside curve of his spoon. John made a noise that sounded like he was enjoying his panna cotta while Sherlock replied with a quick sweep of his fingers up the length of John’s back. 

“Untuck your shirt.” Sherlock said quiet enough for only John to hear but with his usual authority.

“Why?”

“Because you’re not doing up your fly for the cab ride home and I’m about to make you quite hard. You don’t want everyone to see do you?” Sherlock eased his hand inside and John felt powerless to stop him. “Oh, I don’t have much work to do.”

“Not particularly.” John blushed. It was the slow licking of Sherlock's spoon that was the main culprit.

Sherlock found the tip of his cock poking out the top and ran his index finger slow along the slit. John’s face was a mixture of pleasure and anguish. Sherlock withdrew his hand and dipped that finger into some left over cream on his plate before offering it to John. “Taste.” Sherlock commanded. “It’s lovely.”

John opened his mouth and quickly sucked the cream off the tip of that bloody finger. He could taste the tang of himself through the milky sweetness. “We-we need to pay, get out of here. Right now.” 

“I quite agree.” 

It took far too long to settle the bill but a microsecond felt like a lifetime, hell, a dozen lifetimes. Sherlock grabbed him by the hand and dragged him into the pre-ordered cab like he might resist but he was just as eager to get home. John was pounced upon before he was even sat down. Sherlock’s hand shoved inside his trousers, hardly hidden at all by John’s shirt. “God John, I can’t wait to see you, do they feel good? Tell me.” He spoke directly into John’s ear, his breath swirling hot and clammy before kissing and nibbling anywhere he could find, earlobe, cheek, neck, hair.

“What about the cab driver?”

“Don’t worry, I know him, he’s discreet. Come on, tell me, I need to know.”

“Yes, the feel good, they’ve felt good all night. Amazing, incredible, god.” John was rocking his hips back and forth, taking what he could but Sherlock’s hand was manic, exploring the material, pattern and textures and much as John’s flesh. He was desperate, so was John. He stole a couple of kisses back, his hands grasping as much of a squirming Sherlock as he could, grabbing at his cock through his trousers and making him groan into John’s shoulder.

“You deserve them John, you’d look better in them than any woman.” He spoke in a panting rush, quiet so they weren’t overheard but their activities were fairly obvious. “I love feeling them stretched over your cock, holding your balls. You didn’t fall out, you wear them so expertly.”

“You wore them too?” Sherlock was massaging the tip of John with his finger tips forcing John to bite his lips hard together; he couldn’t come in the cab. The top of the knickers were tight and tickling against his shaft and that only served to send further overwhelming waves of pleasure right through him. 

“Just for a minute but they’re yours John, all yours. God, you’re close already aren’t you?” John nodded so he stopped and returned to just stroking the material, slipping his hand between John’s open legs and back up again. “Did you like wearing them out?” Sherlock husked into his ear while grinding himself slowly against John’s hand.

“I-I was nervous but I preferred it when you were there, didn’t care as much.” 

“You should wear them all the time, I could just shove my hand inside your trousers at a crime scene, know which ones you had on just from feeling them.”

“Oh, oh god.” 

“I want you to strip for me when we get inside, I want you in nothing but these, I want to see you.”

“Yes, of course.”

“Did you used to fantasise about this? Wearing them outside?”

“Yes.”

“What did you fantasise about?”

“I, uh, oh fuck.” Sherlock eased up again and just rested his hand inside while John throbbed. He kissed John’s neck instead, slower than before for which John was grateful. “Before we got together I used to fantasise that you’d catch me wearing them. We’d be on a case and maybe you’d just see the waist band at the back if I bent over and forgot to be careful or maybe I wanted you to see.”

“What would I do, John?”

“You’d tease me but I could tell you liked it, that you liked being surprised. You’d drag me somewhere private, grab my hand and put it on my cock, make me wank in front of you. Maybe you’d threaten to tell everyone if I didn’t do it.”

“I wouldn’t.” He said seriously.

“I know, I trust you. I wouldn’t have worn them tonight if I didn’t.”

“Good, I want you to trust me. I’ve been fantasising too.” His voice was almost growling into John’s ear now. “I want to fuck you John, as soon as we get home.” He bit John’s earlobe and gripped his cock tight. “One day I’m going to buy some just so I can rip a hole in them and fuck you while you’re still wearing them. Little frilly ones.”

“Oh fuck, fuck, fuck.” John pushed Sherlock’s hand against him wanting to come but Sherlock pulled it away.

“Not yet, wait, we’re almost home.” Sherlock brought John’s lips to his with a hand that smelled beautifully of John. He kept it there on John’s cheek, both of them inhaling the scent of sex as they kissed open mouthed, tongues lapping at each other until they pulled up outside their flat. John was throbbing from top to toe because Sherlock wanted the same and so much more. He was taking his fantasies to places John hadn’t even dared in case they were never fulfilled. He felt like he was finally letting go.

Sherlock opened the door to their flat and got them both inside with a tug on John’s arm. “Clothes off, I want to see.”

John stripped with Sherlock watching dishevelled and leaning against the door. John had already set to work on Sherlock’s belt and buttons while they groped each other up the stairs so his trousers were sliding down his hips exposing a pair of white La Perla branded tight white briefs and an erection that could be seen clearly through the taut fabric. “Wanted to treat myself too.”

“Very nice.” They were slightly see-through too, Sherlock's cock dark beneath the fabric. 

“You look much nicer though.” Sherlock admired as John carefully tugged off each of his socks and dropped his trousers to the floor and out of harm’s way. He stood and adjusted himself but it was impossible to keep himself inside them. His cock stood proud, poking out of the top. He felt powerful just from the way Sherlock was consuming him piece by piece with his eyes. “You’re a vision, John.” Sherlock closed the gap between them in one long stride and pinned John against the wall with his mouth. John set to work shedding the last of Sherlock’s fine clothing, even his gorgeously luxurious underwear while Sherlock’s hands felt every last inch of the underwear he hadn’t already gotten to in either the restaurant or the cab. 

John pushed on Sherlock’s shoulders to break off the kiss, both of them gasping for air. Sherlock’s arousal was hot against his stomach. “Come on, I can’t wait anymore.”

“Me neither, not a second." Sherlock pulled him away from the wall and manhandled him towards the stairs. John had been hoping to do this in the living room but that could wait for another time, the bed would be fine. “No, here, kneel on the stairs. I want you right here. Right now.”

John grinned and obeyed, positioning himself so his knees were spread and arse facing Sherlock. His mind was consumed with the desire to be fucked, it had been a fantasy far too long in the making and now he needed Sherlock to make it real, no one else could. 

Sherlock laid his shirt so John wouldn’t make a mess on the stairs and stroked his hand down John’s back and over his panty covered bottom. John let out an impatient and wanting sigh. “Won’t have to hardly pull them down at all like this.” Sherlock tugged at them, pulling them down so they stretched between John’s spread thighs. 

“Oh god.” John looked between his legs to see them and also caught sight of Sherlock pulling a tube of lubricant from his coat. “God, god, god.”

“Yes, look at them, your knickers stretched, such a sight.” Sherlock slipped a lubed finger into John without warning but John still pushed back against him, he wanted this to be quick. “Don’t think I’m not going to fuck you like a man John, I know what you are no matter what you wear, no matter how pretty you look.”

“Yes, yes, please, more, come on, come on.”

Sherlock slid another finger inside and John groaned through the pressure. “Good, yes. You sound as good as you look.” Sherlock was sliding his fingers, moving and stretching as quickly as John could bear. He held John’s hip tight, “We'll make you a decent collection, I could have spent a thousand pounds on you without batting an eyelid but it’s not about the money, it’s about you, John.”

“I’m ok with that.” John said with his eyes closed tight as he focused on letting Sherlock work him open as fast as he was. 

“Good, I want you to feel good, I want you to smile at me the way you did when you stood in front of me just now in your lingerie, most erotic sight I’ve ever seen. Like you wanted me to worship you.”

John didn’t remember how he was smiling; he only remembered how Sherlock had looked. John was getting desperate. “More, more now.” 

“Three?”

“Quickly, then fuck me.” He gasped the last word as Sherlock wasn’t too careful with his third finger.

“Sorry.” He leant down and kissed John’s back, “I think I’ll worship you. Every time I thrust into you will be a salutation, would you like that?”

“Fuck fuck, yes, please, fuck me now, I’m ready, I’m ready.”

Sherlock had slipped on a condom at some point, John was too hazy to remember when, and was at his entrance as soon as his fingers had left him. “In me, in me.” John chanted, leaning back as Sherlock pushed forward. “Oh god.” He cried out as Sherlock slipped deep inside, too quickly if anything but it still felt unimaginably good. Sherlock moaned behind him and stroked his thighs over where the underwear was still braced. 

“More?”

“Yes, don’t stop, keep going.”

Sherlock pushed deeper and with a couple more moments to adjust much to John’s grumbling Sherlock was sunk to the hilt inside John. “Ready for me to worship you, John?” Sherlock trailed a hand up John’s chest and tweaked his nipple between his long fingers.

“Oh fuck yes.” The words along were bringing him close to the edge and requiring all his willpower not touch himself. Sherlock had never spoken to him like this before. 

Sherlock started slow but firm, setting the pace and John let him, sliding in and out with relative snug ease. He felt taken, having to brace himself with an outstretched arm from being forced head first into the step and the carpet burning his knees. Sherlock's pace increased and he wasn’t letting up, relentless and unstoppable. If he was trying not to rush he was failing miserably, holding John tighter and driving himself inside with an animalistic grunt, the best possible salutation John could have wanted. “Yes, harder, like you said.” 

Sherlock could only growl as he gave all he had, John steadying himself again from the sheer force, he couldn’t move his knees any further apart for stability, he was completely at Sherlock’s mercy. “Yes, there.” John could only speak between each hard grunt from his lover, his internal sweet spot getting the attention it craved. “Fuck- fuck me.”

John’s mind was blanking out, all the complications fading away until all he knew was the feeling of Sherlock driving inside him and the tight band of material he was trying not to rip between his legs. He took a quick glance at them again, past his cock that was bobbing with each thrust from Sherlock, they looked so innocent yet utterly wicked now they’d given way for John to be fucked. They weren’t meant for him but they were his now.

“God. Need to. Come now.” He was close, something massive had to give. He was surprised he’d lasted this long.

“Yes, do.” Sherlock reached for John, still pounding madly which made his grasp awkward but it was all John needed to cry out his release, no words, just a howling growl and violent shuddering, his semen coating Sherlock’s shirt, more and more and more. Yes, this was how it was meant to be, this is what he’d wanted for so long. 

“Oh fuck Sherlock, come please.” John could barely hold himself up and Sherlock had barely let up his pace throughout. He was worried Sherlock was going to knock him forward.

“Yes, John, yes. Oh, god.” Sherlock leaned over with one arm on the stairs and came hard, bucking into him roughly as he shook. “Oh dear god, John.” He sighed and fell limp along John's back while still inside him. John arms were beginning to shake with fatigue. “That was incredibly good.”

“Yes, yes it was but I’m not holding you up all night.”

“Ah.” Sherlock lifted his body off John and carefully extricated himself. He helped John to his feet and pulled the oyster coloured lingerie to cover him, fitting nicely now he was soft again. He held John up against the wall and kissed him, John’s legs weak still and getting weaker from the sweet kiss Sherlock was bestowing on him. “Would you mind sleeping in these? I’d rather like that.” He said, too close to his face for John to see him.

“Yeah, of course, who am I to interfere with your right to worship?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm sort of in the mood to write the frilly knicker scenario now and they never did make it to the sofa... anyone interested in reading that? For now, this is the end of the adventure, thanks for reading and hopefully enjoying.
> 
> Click for the next chapter!


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Finally the extra chapter I've been planning is up! Frilly knickers ahoy!
> 
> With a thousand (wait, need a big number, bajillion) thanks to my beta Lutz who practically had to smack my head with some sort of Bat O' Tenses as I completely lost it with this one. Also, she's awesome.

Sherlock was enthralled. The last two months had been a whirl of new experiences, new ground, new realms of gratification and excitement. That Red Box had many new additions and some that didn't make it that far. Sherlock's interest had reached new heights now, especially since he'd noticed that John's behaviour subtly changed depending on the underwear selected. There was something about silk that made John want to touch Sherlock everywhere and rub deliciously against him. Cotton made him playful, they'd even wrestled their way off the bed and on to the floor in a fit of giggles. Hadn't stopped them fucking on the floor, that particular pair left dangling around John's left ankle and behind Sherlock's head. Lace had John demanding Sherlock's attention that he was all too willing to give. Sherlock loved to worship John as regularly as he could. Sometimes it was Sherlock's choice, sometimes John's, on one occasion chance decided as John threw knickers at Sherlock until he caught a pair with his teeth. 

_"What about these? Here." John laughed and threw them at Sherlock. He was a little tipsy from the wine and missed completely, throwing them over his bedside lamp. "Bollocks." Maybe he was more than tipsy._

_Sherlock chuckled and sipped at his glass. Sherlock loved nights like this, fun and easy, seeing John so happy, comfortable and deliciously sexy as he pranced about naked and unashamed. Sherlock sat back and touched himself through his trousers. So hard, just from seeing John handle his knickers, how he treasured each pair but so willing to share with Sherlock. To play. "Aim better, John. I want you in something so I can come all over them."_

_"Oh god. Ah, now these feel brilliant, they're a little too tight but, mmmpph, feels so good." John tossed them and Sherlock made a late move to catch them in his mouth but he was too distracted by his own cock. "Bugger."_

_"More. Lace, I want to see your gorgeous arse covered in lace."_

_"Then how about these?" John threw them and there... Sherlock bit and grinned._

_"Let me dress you, Doctor Watson."_

Knickers hadn't been involved every time they've had sex. John had insisted. 

_"I don't want you to get bored." John tucked away the pair Sherlock proffered in a drawer. Sherlock made a sound that could only be described as petulant. "I have other interests."_

_"Boring ones." Sherlock folded his arms, still insistent on getting his way. Sherlock had spent ten minutes choosing a pair for this evening._

_John sat down on the bed and leant to Sherlock's ear. "Well one of them is climbing on top of you and riding you until the only word left in your vocabulary is my name. Maybe I'll let you lick me open." John flicked out his tongue and swirled it around Sherlock's earlobe. "Sound boring?"_

Sherlock hadn't been able to walk past a lingerie shop without staring at the window displays, picturing John in each pair, how his privates would sit, or not sit, inside. He could have been arrested fifty times by now for the number of public erections he'd been sporting. If the shop was posh and exclusive enough, he'd go inside and buy a pair. Or two. Or three. He couldn't help himself, what he liked seemed to change from day to day. He still had several pairs he'd not yet presented to John, saving them for the right mood and moment. Or decidedly the wrong moment...

_John sat down in the staff room for their usual weekly meeting, opened his briefcase and promptly closed it again. "Ah, I've left my report in my desk. I'll be right back." John hurried to his office, knowing he only had a few minutes. He shouldn't really look, it would drive him crazy for the rest of the day but he had to look inside the slim white box Sherlock had secreted into his briefcase. The decidedly obscene slim white box._

_John hadn't gotten a good look before but Sherlock had drawn multiple erotic pictures of them together. They were beautiful and as John expected, explicitly detailed. There were little scenes, them on Sherlock's bed surrounded by clothes and underwear. All of the drawings were drawn in black ink but the colour, the colour he saved for the underwear strewn around or on John's body. Each pair were a different colour, some patterned, most plain. There was one drawing that had John breathless and fighting an erection. He was already planning on demanding this one when he got home. He traced the drawing with his finger tips, Sherlock was sat on his heels with John impaled on his lap, one of Sherlock's arms wrapped around his chest and clasped at the bottom of John's neck while his other hand is gripping tight on John's hip. A pair of red underwear was shoved inside John's mouth. John opened the box. "Oh god." They're red._

Sherlock had bought them online too. More _specialist_ ones. The long nights and abundant choice made it far too easy to explore his every whim from the virginal bridal wear to complicated crisscrosses of material to highlight John's still firm stomach. The first pair he ordered was from a website that catered in feminine lingerie fitted to the male form. 

_"You look... stunning." Sherlock lay naked on the bed but for his shirt that John had insisted he'd keep. John turned and looked at himself in Sherlock's full length mirror, the thong at the back sitting nicely between his buttocks. Sherlock had decided they were decidedly biteable._

_"Yeah." John was unsure, not meeting Sherlock's eyes and he wasn't hard anymore._

_"What's wrong? Don't you like them?" Sherlock wracked his brain, trying to figure out what he had done wrong. Turquoise blue, not navy or safe but John had other pairs like that. They weren't particularly fancy but Sherlock had bought them so John might wear them out of the house. They were cut to fit around John, lifting him and presenting him quite wonderfully in Sherlock's opinion but somewhere he'd failed._

_"No, I-I like them, it's just... they feel different or not different. God, I'm being a right selfish twat."_

_"Take them off." Sherlock understood, he'd taken away the elicit edge, everything that was wrong about wearing something forbidden, something not meant for him to enjoy. Something not meant for either of them to enjoy._

_"It's alright."_

_Sherlock stood, grabbed the side and forcibly ripped them. He moved to the other side, and ripped them there too. With one fluid move he pulled the material from between John's legs. "There. Much better." He threw away his failure._

_John looked up at Sherlock, eyes blown wide, jaw dropped and gasping. " Fuck me right now."_

Sherlock's second attempt at a little online shopping had been much more successful. Not that the night he'd ripped John's knickers off hadn't been repeated once already, that time with something much silkier which he'd used to wank John off just like his first teenage experience with women's underwear. The second time Sherlock had gone for something much different. 

_Sherlock waited anxiously on the bed. He'd snuck John's most recent present into the bathroom while he showered. He left them draped over the towel, easily noticeable but if John chose not to wear them nothing need be said, Sherlock would just tidy them away somewhere and try to forget. He'd been waiting for days, but he wanted this to be something John wore on clean skin at night. The shower shut off and Sherlock's heart leapt. John would be looking at them now, muttering some affectionate curse in Sherlock's direction before drying his hands and examining them closer._

_Sherlock swallowed hard. He didn't understand why he was this nervously excited but perhaps his selection had been motivated by his own curiosity this time. He hadn't picked them because John would like them, he'd picked them because he liked them. It was his preference being judged this time. While so many had overlapped with John, this might not._

_Even through the buzz of anxiety he was beginning to feel flushed. He undid an extra button on his shirt and dried his palms on the bed spread, his composure slipping the longer he had to wait. Just as he considered pacing off some of the early adrenaline the door opens._

_"John." Sherlock sighed in absolute awe. There John stood, naked but for shining, low cut, black latex shorts. Sherlock couldn't speak, he didn't feel he could without John's say so. John moved into the room, upright and strong, his demeanour altered. Sherlock felt his presence like nothing else, John's gaze keeping him quiet and still. Sherlock licked his lips, mouth watering at the sight of John growing hard in the tight confines of the material. These weren't just a simple fetish item, Sherlock made sure John knew these were designed for a woman. Between his thighs they were cut open and lined with rubber edges like lips, snapped shut until Sherlock would lick them open, smelling the latex, rubber and musk to tease at John's most sensitive spots._

_John stood at the edge of the bed and Sherlock rose on to his knees to meet him, hands on John's covered hips. One of Sherlock's earliest cases had led him to a gay strip club in Soho where Sherlock first saw a man wearing something similar and he'd never been able to shake that fantasy. It was like they'd been painted on, John's body seemed made for anything and everything Sherlock could imagine._

_As Sherlock trailed his hands up John's body and reached up to kiss him he found John's hand fisted in his hair, pulling him back to lay on the bed while John climbed over him like a predator. His time to savour was over. Sherlock noted that for all of John's dominance, his back is curved and bottom pushed out in a decidedly coquettish manner. Magnificent. Slowly John begun to undo Sherlock's trousers with one hand while hovering above Sherlock lips, still withholding his kiss. Sherlock closed his eyes briefly, just to focus on John's breath on his skin before staring back up at John._

_"You're mine tonight, Sherlock. Spread your legs."_

_Sherlock was helpless but to nod and comply. Then he got his kiss._

As gorgeous as John looked in those sinful knickers, as powerful as he was as he fucked Sherlock like he had no intention of doing anything but that until he expired, Sherlock could never settle for just one type of anything. The most wonderful aspect of John's secret kink was the sheer variety available, each pair seemed to unlock something new for them both. While John had favourites he liked to wear more than once, Sherlock was content to move onto the next. Well, perhaps the latex would make another showing. John had never dared to take him like that before and Sherlock was once again surprised by his reaction. He was pleading for John to have his wicked way with him, moaning as John bit his nipples and gasping when he scratched his skin. Now as Sherlock stood over the electro-microscope at St Bart's his mind was wandering again. 

He wondered whether leopard spots would be tacky. He not only decides they would be but that John would most certainly laugh. Sherlock briefly thought about crotchless but decided pretty quickly that those would be impractical and probably the wrong side of tacky again. He wanted to see John looking debauched but luxurious, like a man others would pay their life's wages just for one night with. Of course Sherlock knew John was worth double or triple that. His thoughts turned to the more expensive, diamonds or pearls- 

"Oi!" 

Sherlock's train of thought was interrupted by the appearance of said object of desire but he looked far from happy. "John, I'm working." That wasn't entirely true. The crystalline structures forming in the goose blood samples were turning out to be a huge waste of time and probably best abandoned. That and he couldn't get John out of his head.

"Were you ever planning on coming home?" 

Sherlock glanced at his watch. "It's only two."

"AM, Sherlock, two _am."_

"Yes?"

"And it's Tuesday."

"Ah." It had come as a surprise that he'd not been home for two and a half days. Fortunately he'd had that shower and change of clothes that morning, but then the goose had been surprisingly messy. 

"Ah indeed." John seethed, a little calmer but far from content. "You're done here, I need you home."

Sherlock caught an edge in his voice, something that made the hairs on his forearms stand on end. He scanned John from head to toe, he was shifting ever-so-slightly from foot to foot and his hands didn't look comfortable at his sides, too stiff and forced. Something was off and Sherlock had more than an idea of what might be John's problem. "Mmm, you _need_ me?" Sherlock sidled up to John, crowding him against one of the tables and blocking him in. He smelled fresh, he must have showered before leaving, brushed his hair, shaved. More evidence that John came here for reasons beyond what he had revealed thus far. "What do you _need_ me for, John?"

John raised his chin in some defiance, he had cards left to play but Sherlock didn't know what they were yet. Sherlock wanted to find out more than anything. "I've been waiting for you to come through on a promise. Thought I might force the issue."

"And what promise would this be? I rarely make ones I don't keep." If anything he rarely made them at all.

John smiled something sly and pulled Sherlock down to whisper warm into his ear, _"One day I'll buy you a pair just to rip a hole in them so I can fuck you while you're still wearing them. Little. Frilly. Ones."_

Sherlock's mind worked fast and his passion flared as he met John's eyes. He had suspected John was in need of sexual release but he hadn't anticipated that he'd wear underwear out of the house without being instructed to do so. Sherlock's hands scrambled much less elegantly than he was hoping to the hem of John's jumper and lifted, untucking the cotton t-shirt underneath and dipping his fingers under the waistband of John jeans without bothering to undo them. He needed to know now. "Oh..." Sherlock could feel a gauzy ruffle under his finger tips but he couldn't get any further without undoing a button or two. In the next breath Sherlock growled, having to fight the temptation to take him right there. "John, wonderful."

John was breathing heavily already, his arms wrapped around Sherlock's neck and playing with his hair. "Take me home Sherlock, rip them and fuck me over the arm of the sofa. You shouldn't make promises you don't keep."

"No." Sherlock set to work on John's belt and buttons seeing no reason not to give into temptation. He'd have John right here, just as he wanted. 

"Sherlock!" John swatted Sherlock's hands away. "Are you mad? Not here!" 

"Yes here." Sherlock grabbed a nearby stool and wedged it under the door handle. It wasn't really required but it would give John that extra push. "The only people here are the security guards and I've given them good reason not to cross my path long before now." Sherlock crowded around John again. John's objections were half hearted, completely betrayed by the fire in his eyes and his compliance as Sherlock kissed him and wound his tongue around John's. He wanted this too.

John didn't resist when Sherlock pulled off his coat and left it on the floor. In fact, John's hands set busily to work on Sherlock's shirt. "No." Sherlock pushed his hands away and took off John's t-shirt and jumper in one move. "Let me see you first." John smiled and toed off his shoes while Sherlock undid the button and fly on his jeans. As the jeans fell to the floor Sherlock's frantic actions came to a shuddering halt. Sherlock stood back enough see him. _Pink,_ John had never worn pink before. "So pretty." Sherlock tested the water with his compliment and the almost sweet half smile was new, yet another delightful surprise. 

Sherlock ran a finger along the inch thick strip of gauzy ruffle that lined the waist band. It was trimmed with white stitching, an extra pretty touch. The front was fairly plain pink satin with a gauze 'v' at the front that would have revealed John's clean shaven skin but now it was a tantalising window revealing the underside of John's stiff prick. Sherlock adored that they were cut high enough to keep him inside even when fully aroused.

"I went shopping on my lunch break a couple of days ago. I thought you might like them."

"I do." Sherlock barely had a voice. "Very much." Typically Sherlock had found that the lacier and more detailed the underwear, the darker the colour. Safe cotton briefs was where you'd find 'prettier' colours but Sherlock had longed to see him in pink. To see him in something so feminine. He loved to push John's limits. 

"You seemed to be hinting that you wanted something... like this."

"Pink, I wanted you in pink. You're perfect in everything."

"Thanks." John fidgeted and didn't know what to do with his limbs again. 

"You're blushing, John." Sherlock brushed the back of his fingers across John's cheek to feel the heat. He wanted to soothe away the self-consciousness. "You're starting to match your knickers." 

"Oh god, please." John grabbed Sherlock's shirt and pulled him desperately closer. 

Sherlock stroked down John's body, palms gliding down his sides to his hips. "These are so girly, John... oh my..." Sherlock's hands had slipped round to grab John's behind and found yet more ruffles and frills. He hadn't thought about making him turn around but his reflex to chastise himself was overwhelmed by the arousing surprise. He could only feel, he hadn't let himself look yet but he'd save it for when he had John bent over. 

Sherlock kissed him hard, pulling him tight and crushing him against the table. John had chosen such perfection and Sherlock didn't want to let go. John grappled at Sherlock's clothes again but Sherlock saw no reason to be any more undressed than he needed to be. Sherlock grabbed John's wrists, holding them at his sides and kept kissing, all the while grinding his cock against the pretty little item. 

"How did they feel on the way over, John?"

"Mmmm, I couldn't forget. I could feel them constantly. Fuck Sherlock, I was hard the whole way."

"Could you feel these frills as you sat? Your pretty little secret?" Sherlock finished his question with a couple of nips to John's earlobe and neck, just scraping teeth along exposed skin. 

"Yes, I couldn't keep still. God I feel..." John couldn't keep still now, rubbing himself against Sherlock. "Sherlock, we don't have time-" His words were cut off with another firmer nip. John moaned and buckled a little. "Please."

Sherlock's resolve was beginning to weaken. "You're so utterly beautiful, breathtaking." Sherlock whispered, kissing along John's jaw to the other side of his neck. He was pliant, bending his head to give Sherlock free range over his whole body if that's what Sherlock wanted. Even smack bang in the middle of the lab. 

"I'm..." John swallowed, his voice shaking ever so slightly, "I'm so wet for you." He rushed out, nervous but needing to say it aloud. 

"My god." Sherlock pulled back enough to look John in the eye, biting hard on his bottom lip and squeezing John's wrists tight. _Wet._ Sherlock had never heard John talk like that before. If Sherlock's resolve had been weakened before, now it was destroyed. "Come." Sherlock dragged John towards one of the side tables, bundling up the books and files he'd left there and shoving them aside or to the floor. 

By the time Sherlock turned back to John he's already laying himself down over the cold metal desk, wincing at the cold on his overheated skin. It was the perfect height, forcing John on to tiptoe leaving him that little bit helpless. His thick thighs looking all the more erotic for the pale pink frills over his pert bottom. Sherlock ran his hand through John's hair and down his back before standing behind him only to press his still clothed dick against John's gorgeously covered arse. "You will be my undoing."

"Please, Sherlock, I've been thinking about this for days. Make a hole and fuck me." John's teeth were gritted, his forehead pressed against the table with frustration but he didn't make a move of Sherlock. It was sheer discipline keeping him there.

"Can't I keep you like this forever, John?" Sherlock dragged a finger between John's cheeks, flicking his finger under each layer of frill to find the perfect... spot... to pinch... and _rip._ "Oh." Sherlock had to close his eyes for a second to keep from losing himself. That was infinitely more satisfying and arousing than he could have ever hoped, different to ripping satin or cotton at the seams. If John's shudder was any indication he loved it too, the sound of the material giving way. It was the purpose, the reason they were being ripped that got to them both. To fuck John while his cock was still bound, to destroy the innocence of his _little frilly knickers._

"God, please, fuck, now!" John's frustration tipped over again after Sherlock became lost in his own thoughts, staring and memorising the sight.

The hole is barely big enough, the stitched ruffles were making it difficult to make it any wider but it would only mean Sherlock would _feel_ more. "Lube?"

"No need. Feel me."

Sherlock furrowed his brow for a moment and pushed his finger through the material, a joy in itself, to John's hairless furled opening. "You..." He's _wet._

"Told you." John wriggled as Sherlock pushed in and toying with John's supple and ready hole. Probing back and forth, watching through the translucent material, his finger coloured pink. "I did it for you. God I want you, please." 

"Yes, oh." Sherlock groped at extra ruffles, admiring the cut that exposed the sumptuous outer curve of his arse. "You should see yourself John, not innocent anymore. These weren't innocent the moment you saw them, you defiled them with your intent." Sherlock eyes didn't leave the torn hole, slightly hidden by one of the frills, as he quickly undid his trousers and pulled down his boxer briefs just enough to free himself. Sherlock stood, admiring the muscled line of John's back, the way the knickers covered his hips and the strength of his legs, made long by his prone position.

John was watching, still flushed and enjoying Sherlock's rapture. "Focus, Sherlock."

"You stop me thinking, I should kill you for that but I think I might marry you instead." John laughed and Sherlock took the chance to bite John's flesh right through the material. Sherlock tongued the material for a moment before biting again. 

"Oh god! Fuck, now, hurry up."

"Now that language isn't very ladylike." Sherlock teased with another probing finger slipping easily inside. John was almost oozing lubricant, Sherlock wouldn't need any for himself.

"Nnnnggh, you might not have noticed but I'm no fucking lady now fuck me."

"Your wish..." Sherlock slid his finger free and lined himself up, the material tickling his tip for a brief second as he guided himself through the torn gap. _"Oh John."_ He'd felt all sorts of materials in the carnal sense over last few months but _this,_ this was something else. The mesh slipped tight over the head of his cock and around his length as he nudged up against John's entrance and slipped in deep. Tight but no resistance, warm and slick. Sherlock's head was filled with images with how John might have prepared himself, fingers or toys, on his back or knees, did he moan Sherlock's name as he pushed more and more lubricant inside himself? Sherlock wanted to know everything, but he'd save it for when they got home, right now he wanted his mind completely focused on this moment. 

"Oh god, _at-bloody-last,_ more, don't stop, don't stop." John pushed back, spreading his legs as much as he could. Sherlock ran a palm up John's thigh, taut, hard and masculine as he came flush with those frills. Sherlock had never felt anything like it. Only his John could deliver such a sensual contradiction, utterly amazing. 

John quivered around Sherlock's cock and Sherlock was teetering on edge too. There were so many new sensations to take in, the underwear under his hands as he gripped John's hips and how he could feel the ruche brushing against his testicles. Slowly he pulled back, watching the underwear skip and slide along his length. Quickly he pushed back in, taking John by surprise as he grunted and arched back. "God, like that, please."

Sherlock obliged, drawing back achingly slow while massaging the frills in such a way to rub the satin front against John's erection. Sherlock took a fiendish pleasure in the not-quite-enough touch making John squirm and moan with bliss and frustration, all the while thrusting deep and steady. The rhythm was intoxicating, Sherlock's hips almost moving of their own accord, drawn into John's body.

Sherlock stared down at the knickers pulling back and forth, a delightful friction. They tugged and twisted, catching and sticking erratically with every thrust, Sherlock wished he had his phone so he could record this. The frills danced and moved with them, Sherlock felt like he was inside them too. "God John, I'm fucking your frilly knickers."

"Oh, Christ." John groaned, his insides clamping down briefly, oh he's so close. 

"Can you feel me fucking them like I'm fucking you?"

"Yes, oh, they fucking love it too." John quipped and bit back a cry as Sherlock rammed in hard, pushing the desk across the floor slightly with an almighty screech. "Come on, show me what you've got." 

Sherlock let loose, never one to turn down a challenge like that. He gripped John tight to stop from moving across the floor any further. They really didn't want company, not now. Sherlock had John pinned perfectly, leaning over just a little to get the angle right. "John, god you're so perfect." Sherlock had to fight to keep from letting go, desperately wanting every extra second he could wring out of John. His shirt was clinging to his body, he's too hot but there was no time to even rip it off. All he knows is the twin tightness of John's body and those damn knickers creating a near painful but oh-so-good friction along his shaft.

"T-touch." John hand flailed fruitlessly and Sherlock showed mercy, putting his palm tight against John's prick, giving him just enough friction to- "Fuck, fuck!" John's coming, shuddering and soaking the satin. He was right there, it hardly took anything and if that didn't bring Sherlock right to the edge. With another look at the sight of his cock disappearing through the hole Sherlock was coming too, his release breaking and fluttering through his whole shaking body. The whole world fell dark but for an awareness of John and their shared secret. 

When Sherlock's eyes finally opened again he saw John smiling contently. "God Sherlock, amazing."

"Mmmphh." Sherlock laid down on top of John's sweaty back, unbelievably comfortable. He could fall asleep right here given half a chance. "Are you happy, you've ruined me, I'll never think again."

"Mmm, overjoyed." John sighed and elbowed Sherlock to the side but he was still half sprawled over him. "I think my knickers came too." 

"Does this count as a threesome then?"

John chuckled, "As long as it's just you, me and whatever I'm wearing it's fine. I don't share."

"Me neither, I'm terribly selfish."

"We need to go before someone finds us like this."

"Ugh, if we must." Sherlock eased himself up and helped John to his wobbling feet. Sherlock grunted at the sight of a dark wet stain across the front of the knickers. "Wear them home, John. Let me clean you." Sherlock was overwhelmed by the need to take care of John.

"If this is what pink does to you..."

"I have three more pairs of pink at home."

"We better hurry then."


End file.
